


not a crush, but a crash

by bearmowgli



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Aromantic Tsukishima Kei, Asexual Tsukishima Kei, Canon Compliant, Coming Out, Computer Metaphors, Gen, M/M, Tsukishima is not a robot no matter how much he insists on it, they say shit b/c they're teens but otherwise it's gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-15
Updated: 2021-03-15
Packaged: 2021-03-23 22:54:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,006
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30062781
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bearmowgli/pseuds/bearmowgli
Summary: When Yamaguchi asks him out, Tsukishima proceeds to malfunction.
Relationships: Tsukishima Kei & Yamaguchi Tadashi, Tsukishima Kei/Yamaguchi Tadashi
Kudos: 59





	not a crush, but a crash

**Author's Note:**

> my first fic in like a decade, so who better to write about than my awkward aroace son.
> 
> i am very rusty, but this was fun! :D

When Yamaguchi asks him out, Tsukishima proceeds to malfunction.

Blue screen of death, loading wheel perpetually spinning, brain.exe has stopped working.

He freezes. Rooted in the spot, mouth agape, golden eyes blown wide in panic. _Oh shit._ What should he say? Yamaguchi is just standing there looking so earnest and nervous and _fond_ , waiting for him to respond. But Tsukishima can’t seem to rub his last two brain cells together to form a coherent thought, let alone a coherent reply, so he resorts to more primitive instincts instead. 

And runs.

In situations of fight or flight, Tsukishima will choose flight every time. Especially when said fighting would mean grappling with _feelings_. For his best friend no less. Or lack thereof. He’s not sure where he stands on that yet to be frank. He’d been meaning to work that out on his own, at his own pace—ideally, a nice leisurely one over the course of many years, or really never at all if he could help it.

But Yamaguchi just had to throw a wrench in his plans to slowly (or never) figure out his emotions by asking that damn question.

“Hey, Tsukki. Do you want to go out sometime? Like on a date...with me.”

And that was when Tsukishima’s brain crashed.

Now he’s running on safe mode, a basic state used to troubleshoot problems when you can’t access higher processing functions. Which is perfect because Tsukishima can’t really think right now.

He’s also running in the literal sense. Away from Yamaguchi. Away from confronting his jumbled-up emotions. Away from the fork in the road on their well-worn path home from school, taking the left split all the way to his house, up the stairs, and into the safety of his bedroom, cocooning himself in a nest of blankets as he lets out a groan. He buries himself in his pillow.

After a moment, Tsukishima’s brain boots up briefly enough to register that he should at least text Yamaguchi an apology for leaving him hanging. So, he does.

Sorry about that. <<

It was shitty. <<

I panicked. <<

>> i figured

>> tbh it’s not the worst response I expected

Ouch. <<

What does that say about me? <<

>> just that you’re an emotionally constipated, socially awkward worrywart

Ouch. x2 <<

>> hahaha

>> and that I’m a pessimist who always plans for the worst

I’m the worst. <<

I’m sorry. <<

Again. <<

>> don’t worry, tsukki, it’s okay

You sure? <<

>> i mean not really but...

>> we can talk about it tomorrow??

>> or when you’re ready?

Yeah, tomorrow should be good. <<

Thanks, Yamaguchi. <<

>> no prob

>> goodnight tsukki!! :D

>> talk to you tomorrow~~

Tsukishima lets out another groan, this one so long that he wonders if there’s a world record for such a thing. There’ll be no sleeping tonight. His brain, finally back to fully functional—a little _too_ functional if you ask him—is whirring a mile a minute, just thinking and thinking and overthinking. Analyzing, computing, calculate.

Every detail, every interaction, every emotion compressed into tiny bits of data he can process with the 16GB of system memory supplied to him—that’s 1 gigabyte per year of life by the way, but this computer metaphor he’s got going is starting to get out of hand. He stays up all night until he reaches a conclusion.

 _Ah, an experiment,_ he thinks. _Why, of course._

\-----

The next day finds both of them at their usual meeting place on the way to school, that same fork in the road that splits off towards each of their houses, the same spot Tsukishima ran away from the day prior.

Seeing Yamaguchi waiting for him there, looking so antsy as he rocks back and forth on his heels, makes Tsukishima briefly consider bolting again to avoid the talk he so desperately wants to have and simultaneously wishes will never happen. He steels his nerves and walks up to his best friend.

“Hey.”

“Morning!”

“Um, so about yesterday. I—” Tsukishima starts.

“Oh my gosh, Tsukki, I’m so sorry I asked you out. I thought you might’ve felt the same way, but I guess I was wrong. And I feel really bad for making you uncomfortable. It was totally out of the blue and—”

“I want to try it,” Tsukishima cuts him off. It’s barely audible unless your ears are attuned to it, and over six years of being practically inseparable, Yamaguchi has definitely become attuned to his best friend’s voice.

“What?” Yamaguchi’s eyes are wide, boring holes into Tsukishima’s forehead. He’s trying not to look the Yamaguchi in the face lest he chicken out.

“I want to try it,” he repeats. “Going on a date. With you.” Tsukishima raises his head now, golden eyes meeting brown ones. “If you still want to, of course.”

“Well, yeah. Of course, I do,” Yamaguchi breathes out, not realizing he’d been holding his breath. “I just didn’t think you’d be interested…considering you ran yesterday.”

“Yeah, sorry about that...again.” Guilt and embarrassment flush Tsukishima’s cheeks as he continues, “I was an idiot for doing that. I just wasn’t expecting it, and I didn’t know how to respond.” He takes a deep breath. “But I want to give it a go.”

“Okay.” Yamaguchi smiles and asks sheepishly, “Does that mean you like me too?”

A beat.

“Um, to be honest, I’m not entirely sure yet.” Tsukishima turns away again. “I think so! Maybe. I’m...I’m trying to figure it out.” He looks back at Yamaguchi’s face. “If that’s okay,” he mumbles.

There’s a softness in Ymaguchi’s eyes, a tenderness Tsukishima feels unworthy of receiving, when the other boy responds, “Yeah, that’s okay.” He smiles in a way that rips at Tsukishima’s heart. “Take your time, Tsukki.”

Though definitely a result of Yamaguchi’s warm hand in his as they continue the walk to school, the scarlet that creeps up Tsukishima’s neck is one of guilt as well. Guilt for holding back information.

It’s true that he hasn’t figured out his feelings yet. But going on a date isn’t just a test of whether he has feelings for Yamaguchi, it’s an experiment to see whether he has any feelings _at all_. And his best friend just became his test subject.

\-----

They decide to have their date on Friday. They only have morning practice that day, so the afternoon is open for whatever they want; the romantic possibilities are endless.

But the new sci-fi flick they’d been meaning to see comes out that night, and Tsukishima had snagged discount tickets to the new history exhibit that expires at the end of the month, and Yamaguchi’s in the mood for burgers, so they end up having the Friday night hangout they always have: movies, museums, and fast food.

So, Tsukishima goes into the evening less nervous than originally feared, a little optimistic even. Hanging out with Yamaguchi like this is something he’s done a million times before, so today shouldn’t be any different, right?

Right?

But it is. This time there’s a label on it: a _date_. This is a date! It’s not just two friends hanging out, but two people who are attracted to each other trying to see if there’s a romantic connection. The intent is different. And the handholding, that’s different too.

Yamaguchi had asked if it was okay to hold hands when they met up outside the museum, and Tsukishima couldn’t think of a good reason to say no. So, their fingers stay interlocked pretty much the whole night. And it’s not bad, per se; it doesn’t feel unpleasant or anything, but it also doesn’t feel right either.

Actually, a lot of things about the date don’t feel right. For one, Tsukishima is nervous the entire time—to be expected of any first date for sure, but he’s clammy and uncomfortable, too. Like wearing a scratchy wool sweater that’s a touch too tight, constricting his airflow and making him overheat. It doesn’t fit. Plus, it’s not his style at all.

He’s also hyper-aware of everything. There’s just way too much to process. Too many tabs open in the browser of his mind, all running computations on how every movement, every expression, every word means something different in the context of a _date_. Not to mention how to properly respond to each one. It’s like a language he can’t decipher: the world running on C++ while he’s still speaking in HTML.

It’s exhausting.

And it just feels wrong.

Well, maybe wrong is a little too harsh, too negative. But it’s not quite right either. Tsukishima feels like one of those super-refined AI’s they saw in that sci-fi film, one that’s gotten past the uncanny valley and right to the “practically indistinguishable from humans” stage. And he’s trying to play the part of teenage boy, blending in with people and going on dates to learn what true love is.

But it just won’t click into place. Cannot compute.

\-----

Tsukishima goes home that night and promptly boots up his computer. He reopens a tab he’s had saved for months and sighs, staring at the two definitions floating on the screen as if they hadn’t been branded into his mind the moment he first came across them.

He puts his laptop in sleep mode and tries to follow suit.

\-----

“Can you kiss me?”

“So, I think if I adjust my serve toss by...wait, what?” Yamaguchi stops mid-step, one foot raised as the question sinks in. He turns around to find Tsukishima a meter away, standing in the middle of the path.

“Yamaguchi, can you...kiss me?” Tsukishima repeats. There’s unwavering determination in his eyes, but Tsukishima’s slightly slouched with his hands clasped in front of him, fingers twitching. “Please?” he tacks on, barely above a whisper.

“I, uh, s-sure, Tsukki,” Yamaguchi stutters. “If that’s what you want.” He’s stunned. This request is totally out of left field.

“Yup, that’s what I want,” Tsukishima replies quickly, sounding like he’s trying to convince himself as well. He rolls his shoulders back for emphasis.

“Well, okay then.”

Yamaguchi steps closer and tilts his head up as Tsukishima leans down, helping to close the gap.

They kiss.

And there’s nothing. No fireworks, no sparks, no ephemeral intuition telling Tsukishima that this felt right. If anything, it just feels a bit off. Awkward. Uncomfortable, even.

Was there a bug in his system or something?

Tsukishima’s mind goes into a frenzy, panicking. He feels a crash coming on. Blue starts creeping in at the edges of his vision. Or maybe that’s just the color of the sky because apparently, Tsukishima opened his eyes as soon as Yamaguchi’s lips met his and he realized it was all wrong.

 _Shit_ , he thinks.

“Was I really that bad, Tsukki?” Yamaguchi laughs awkwardly, failing to cover up the hurt in his voice.

 _Wait, did I say that out loud?_ he actually thinks this time. _Oh shit. Oh shit._

That familiar fight or flight is back, and since Tsukishima is a creature of habit, he runs. Again. His brain begins the well-worn process of shutting down as he flies past Yamaguchi and all the little houses on his street.

Safe mode’s starting to feel like home now.

\-----

>> tsukki this is getting old

>> what the hell?!

I know. I’m sorry. <<

I can explain tomorrow. <<

I’m really, really sorry. <<

>> nope.

>> you’re explaining now

What? <<

?? <<

The doorbell rings.

>> let me in

>> we’re talking

>> right now.

_Shit. Again._

\-----

They take up familiar positions in his room, side by side on the floor. Yamaguchi sits cross-legged with his body turned towards Tsukishima, leaning his head on the bed and looking at the other boy expectantly. Tsukishima, with his back against the bed frame and long legs splayed out in front of him, simply stares straight forward. Avoiding eye contact.

He takes a deep breath.

“I’m...asexual.” And it feels like a weight has been lifted off his shoulders, a heavy burden he didn’t even realize he was carrying until it was gone. “And aromantic,” he adds.

“Oh.” A pause. “That’s great, Tsukki!” The joy in Yamaguchi’s voice is so genuine, so sincere Tsukishima could cry. If he were capable of doing so, that is. “Thank you for telling me.” Yamaguchi grabs his hand. “I really appreciate it.”

Tsukishima turns his head to find a warm smile on his best friend’s face, all tenderness.

“But, um, if you’re aroace...why’d you want to go out with me?” Yamaguchi asks, a slight strain in his voice that Tsukishima doesn’t fail to notice. “And why’d you ask me to kiss you?” He hesitates. “Were you, were you just humoring me?” His rueful tone hastens Tsukishima to clear things up.

“No, no that’s not it all,” he assures. “I just realized this like ten minutes ago...uh, when we kissed.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

“And that’s why you ran?”

“Yeah.” The silence is thick.

“Well, I’d been thinking about it for a while, to be honest. Trying to figure out my sexuality, I mean,” Tsukishima explains.

He repositions himself to fully face Yamaguchi now, sitting cross-legged as well. “I said yes to test it out. To put things into practice, I guess.” He looks down, away from Yamaguchi’s probably accusing stare. “I’m sorry by the way. For using you like that. I should’ve tried to work it out by myself.”

“You don’t have to do everything on your own, you know,” reassures Yamaguchi.

“But it wasn’t fair to you. Making you deal with my identity problems,” he replies bitterly. “When you kissed me, I just didn’t feel anything. I felt...nothing.” His voice breaks. “Maybe I’m a robot,” Tsukishima chuckles darkly.

Yamaguchi reaches over to tilt his chin up and look him square in the eyes. “Tsukki, you are not a robot. You’re human, okay?”

“I know. I know,” he sighs. “But sometimes I feel like one, you know?” Tsukishima readjusts his glasses as he searches for his next words. “It’s like...it’s like I’m incapable of these basic human emotions like love and attraction. And it just, it makes me wonder if I’m cold and unfeeling. A robot.”

“You are perfectly capable of love, Tsukki.” Yamaguchi gives his hand an encouraging squeeze. “There are other forms of love too.”

“I really wanted to like you that way, by the way. I still do.” He looks at their hands clasped together in his lap, squeezing back. “It would’ve been perfect, dating my best friend. My favorite person.”

Yamaguchi’s cheeks flush a little at that.

Tsukishima lets go of Yamaguchi's hand and buries his head in his instead. “But I can’t feel that way and it just sucks. It sucks! And it sucks knowing how you feel about me and not being able to return it. I wish I could give that to you.” He peeks through the cracks of his fingers and sees Yamaguchi looking at him with a sad smile.

“Yeah, it would’ve been great, huh,” Yamaguchi muses, wistful. “Are you sure you just haven’t found the right person though? It’s not like I’m much of a catch.”

Tsukishima scoffs, indignant that Yamaguchi would even think of himself as anything less than perfect.

“No, if it’s not you, it’s not anyone.” His tone is resolute; this is the one thing Tsukishima is 100% confident about. “ _You_ are the right one for me. I’m just not the right one for you because I don’t feel attraction like that.”

“So, it’s an ‘it’s not you, it’s me’ situation?” Yamaguchi teases.

“Ugh, I guess you could put it that way,” Tsukishima groans, burying his face in his hands again, this time out of exasperation.

“Sorry, Tsukki. I’m just kidding,” Yamaguchi chuckles.

They settle into a comfortable silence for a few moments, both of them shifting around to lean back against the bed, side by side, the emotional exhaustion starting to sink in. Until Yamaguchi poses another question.

“Hey, Tsukki? Have you heard of queerplatonic relationships?” Seeing Tsukishima’s confused expression, he continues, “I had a feeling about—” gesturing in the other boy’s direction “—you,” and gets a raised eyebrow in response. “So, I started looking into asexuality and aromanticism and fell down a whole rabbit hole of new terms. It was really interesting.”

“Hmm, okay…what is it?”

“It’s kind of like a romantic relationship without the romance. I guess?”

“Like a close friendship?” Tsukishima asks, still confused.

“Not quite. It’s...different.” Yamaguchi ponders it for a bit. “It’s intimate and intense and built on love, just not the romantic kind. And it’s really up to each partnership to define it for themselves.”

“Huh.”

“But the key thing is that it’s neither a romantic relationship or just a friendship. It’s its own thing. And it’s an important relationship to the people involved.”

Tsukishima feels a flicker of warmth curl up in his belly, a warmth that soon spreads to his chest and limbs and face, pulling his lips up in a smile. It feels nice. Comfortable.

“That sounds…nice,” he murmurs.

“Is that, is that something you would want, Tsukki?” Yamaguchi picks up his hand again. “And I don’t mean just with me, but like in general.”

“I don’t know yet,” he admits. “It’s all so new and a lot to take in.”

“Don’t worry, take your time. Think on it more. I’m not gonna go anywhere.” Yamaguchi gives his hand a comforting squeeze as if to prove his point. “No matter the relationship, I’m going to be in your life, Tsukishima Kei.” 

Yamaguchi flashes him a toothy grin, beaming in a way that’s almost blinding. Tsukishima smiles back.

And suddenly that light extinguishes, Yamaguchi’s expression morphing into a death glare so cold it’s got Tsukishima frozen in his tracks. He briefly wonders if his brain will crash again from sheer fright.

“That is, unless you run away from me again,” Yamaguchi threatens, jabbing a finger at his chest. “We’ve got a 3 strikes policy here in the Yamaguchi household.”

“You’re in my house.”

“Still stands,” Yamaguchi shrugs.

Tsukishima laughs. And he doesn’t stop laughing as he looks down at their intertwined hands thinking that maybe, just maybe this might be alright after all.

**Author's Note:**

> loosely inspired by my own aroace awakening/identity crisis lol


End file.
